First Next Time
by sasha1600
Summary: Gibbs punishes Tony for the first time since the events in Accountability. Warning: spanking of adult. Don’t like? Don’t read!


**First Next Time**

**Summary:** Gibbs punishes Tony for the first time since the events in Accountability. **Warning:** spanking of adult. Don't like? Don't read!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I just play with them.

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A/N: This is part of my 'Lessons' series and builds on a larger plot arc.

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**Warning: this story contains the spanking of an adult. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.**

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Gibbs stepped into the interrogation room, his fingers wrapped tightly around the wooden object in his hand, hoping that Tony didn't notice how nervous he was. It was the first time he had to discipline the younger man since that disastrous unjust punishment that, he knew, could have destroyed their relationship forever.

Tony, it seemed, was also aware that this was going to be an unusually charged conversation. He'd obviously been trying to make Gibbs spank him, either testing whether he really would punish him again, or just trying to get the inevitably awkward first next time out of the way.

He'd glued Tim to his keyboard. Again.

He'd filled the sugar bowl that Ducky kept next to his teapot with salt.

And he'd hippo-napped Bert, sending Abby into a frenzy.

Gibbs had been almost ready to spank him just to stop him from continuing his campaign of petty annoyances.

And then he'd put a whoopee cushion on the Director's usual chair. In MTAC. When she had a satellite conference with SecNav and the Agency's counterparts in the UK.

Gibbs had decided it was time to deal with his senior agent, before his bid for attention escalated any further.

Tony looked up expectantly as Gibbs stepped through the door.

'Tony, what the hell was that about? You know better than to screw around when it's gonna affect the Agency's reputation!'

It quickly became apparent that Tony wasn't listening to him. Instead, he was staring, awe-struck, at the item he carried.

'Boss, I... uh... that's not my paddle.'

'No.'

Gibbs set the paddle down on the table, letting Tony see it more clearly. The younger man stepped closer, reaching out tentatively and trailing a fingertip over the age-worn wood.

'Is that... that's the paddle you made for your dad, isn't it?'

'Uh-huh.'

'And you're gonna... uh...'

'Don't worry, I still plan to use your paddle most of the time. I think it's good for you to have to remember making it. But I thought I should satisfy your curiosity, before you drag Tim into something, figuring if you're both involved, I won't bother getting out more than one paddle.'

'I wouldn't...' Tony started to protest, but the light in his eye told Gibbs that he _had_ been plotting something along those lines.

'Come on.'

Gibbs picked up the paddle again and gestured with it. Tony leaned over the table, settling into position with an ease born of too much experience. He let his hand fall lightly onto his back, not restraining him, but reminding him of his presence.

'Uh, Boss?' Tony asked, twisting his head over his shoulder.

'What is it, Tony?' Gibbs replied, a little worried, wondering if Tony was having second thoughts about wanting to continue to handle his misbehaviour this way.

'Just wanted to let you know I did it this time.'

Gibbs grinned, pausing to ruffle the younger man's hair before bringing the paddle down hard on his backside.

'Ow! That thing hurts, Boss!'

'You think I don't know that, DiNozzo? It wasn't just a woodworking project, you know.'

He continued paddling him, the sound echoing loudly in the small room. Tony was soon gasping in pain, openly crying. Gibbs didn't stop, slamming the solid wood against his ass until he knew it would be red and throbbing. Finally, with a last solid whack, he stopped.

Tony sobbed, not trying to rise for a long moment. When he did push himself shakily to his feet, Gibbs gently turned him to face him and pulled him into his arms. Tony held himself stiffly, not relaxing into the embrace or clinging to him the way that Tim did. But, this time, he didn't struggle. His heart ached as he held the crying man. When he'd finally calmed enough to hear his quiet words, he murmured in his ear, 'It's ok. I've got you, son.'


End file.
